by Alicia Rades
I stopped dead in my tracks as my blood ran cold. Every inch of my body shook as I took in the sight before me. Dad stumbled in the doorway, catching himself on the door frame.
“My boy!” he cried, his voice wavering in genuine agony. I’d never heard him use that tone before.
“What’s going—?” Mom started, but I quickly cut her off.
“Don’t look!” I spun around as she came closer. I threw my arms out and cradled her face to my chest. She didn’t resist.
While I held my mother and let her tears soak into my jacket, my father rushed into the garage, like he could save Eric. But I already knew he couldn’t. I couldn’t explain it, but I could feel the void in the room. It wasn’t just the gaping hole opening in my chest, either. It was a supernatural force telling me Eric’s life was over. It was part of the gift I knew now with certainty I had.
Only one member of the coven inherited this power per generation. Mother Miriam chose me to carry the burden of the dead—to take their last thoughts to the other side with me when I died, where I’d become a reaper for the coven. I suddenly realized what a huge mistake I’d made promising her anything. I was now the Reaper's Apprentice.
And the first thought I'd carry was my brother's. It was the last thing that went through his head before he killed himself.
Mother Miriam thought I would make her proud.
She was wrong.
Chapter 2
Nadine
Two weeks ago, a darkness took over my life. Grammy promised things would get better as time went on, but so far they’d only gotten worse. My bedroom didn’t even feel like my own. The walls were bare, and the sheets removed from the bed. All that was left were a few of my most prized possessions.
I ran my hand over the cover of the Agatha Christie novel Mom and Dad had given me for my birthday last year. The cover was already worn, and the corners tattered. I sat on my bed and opened the cover.
To Nadine, who always loved a good mystery. - Mom and Dad
A lump rose to my throat, but I forced it down. My parents liked to write me letters, but looking at their handwriting was a terrible reminder of what had happened. I quickly flipped the page. A small piece of paper fell out of the pages and fluttered to the ground. I leaned down to pick it up.
A ticket. I’d forgotten I used it as a bookmark the last time I read the book. It’d come from my ticket book that was filled with discounts to mysterious New England attractions. This particular ticket had been used when Mom and I drove five hours to Baltimore to visit the Ripley’s Believe It or Not! Museum.
I placed the ticket back inside the pages and added the book to my last box on top of my Clue board game. The edges of the box were tattered and worn from the years Dad and I spent playing it every Sunday night.
I moved slowly, deliberately, because I wasn’t ready to leave yet. Leaving only meant I had to admit I was never coming back. I couldn’t move much faster anyway—not with the way my joints ached. I hadn’t felt this awful in years.
I reached for a photograph propped up on my nightstand. It showed me and my best friends, Carly and Jessica, on the deck of a riverboat, each wearing a Sherlock Holmes hat. It’d been the night of the murder mystery riverboat tour we took last summer.
Tears pricked at my eyes as I thought of my friends. I’d already said goodbye to them at the funeral, because I couldn’t stand to see anyone right now. I’d never forget our last fun night together, because it was the night I got the call—the one telling me my parents had died.
My life with Carly and Jessica was over. They were headed off to college together, and I knew the weekend sleepovers and Friday night bowling excursions had to end sometime.
I was supposed to be headed to the police academy. My goal had been to work the homicide division one day, but those dreams had been crushed when I’d been rejected from the academy last-minute. They told me there’d been an error in processing my paperwork, but I knew the truth. They didn’t want me because of my condition. They were afraid I was more of a liability than I was worth.
Screw them.
After everything that happened—getting the letter from the police academy, only to lose my parents in a car accident days later—moving in with Grammy was my last option.
She'd made a pretty compelling argument when she invited me to come live with her. Mainly, offering to pay my college tuition—even though I was still undecided on my major. I didn't exactly have the money to live on my own right now, so I couldn't really refuse. I didn’t want to live alone, either. Besides, I loved Grammy. Living with her would be great.
I just had one last thing to add to the boxes. My stomach twisted as I reached for the small wooden box on my nightstand. I hadn’t had the guts to open it yet. If I did—if I looked at what was inside—all I’d think about was how my parents were gone. And though I knew what had happened was real, I couldn’t face it yet. I couldn’t truly say goodbye.
I shoved the wooden box deep within the packing box, covering it up with a few things inside so I wouldn’t get tempted to open it. I couldn’t deal with that right now.
A light knock came at my door, and Grammy stepped inside. Her footsteps seemed louder than they should in the empty room. Grammy was in her sixties, with short white hair, age lines, and the kindest smile I’d ever known. Like every day, she wore a long floral skirt that fell to the floor. She’d come to stay with me while we worked out the funeral arrangements and listing the house.
“Are you ready, Nadine?” she asked gently.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. It took me a moment to compose myself, but I finally lifted my head and nodded. “Yeah, Grammy. I think I’m ready to go.”
I stood with my box and followed Grammy down the hall. The house didn’t feel right, now that all the pictures had been removed as we prepared to sell. It didn’t even smell right, as the scent of lemon cleanser masked the usual smell of baked goods and clean linens. Everything just felt… empty. Which was how I felt without my parents.
Sometimes, I forgot they were gone. I swore I could hear my dad working in the garage or smell my mom cooking in the kitchen. And then it all came crashing down on me again. I was glad I was moving in with Grammy. It was the fresh start I needed.
I loaded my last box in the front seat of my car. The back seat was packed to the brim, as was Grammy’s vehicle. There was just so much I didn’t want to leave behind.
“If you’re not ready, Nadine, we don’t have to leave yet,” Grammy offered.
I took one last look at the white two-story house I grew up in. I knew this day would come eventually, but I didn’t think it’d come like this. I couldn’t keep dragging this out. “Let’s go.”
Grammy drove in front of me as I followed behind her in my car, where the music was on full-blast to drown out my thoughts. The drive wasn’t long, only about an hour and a half, but it seemed longer.
I could tell we were getting close because the road narrowed and became more twisted as we drove through the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains. Tall trees rose on either side of the road, and the forest was bright green with summer foliage.
The road took another twist to the left, and I got my first view of the town in the valley below as we crested the hill. It was bigger than I expected, considering Grammy had always talked about the small, tight-knit community she came from. I was excited to see it was large enough to have at least a mall and a movie theatre.
The road twisted to the right, and the town disappeared from view as we dipped back into the trees. The forest seemed to close in on us, but in a comforting, warm-hug kind of way. We reached the base of the valley, and the trees slowly parted. A huge black sign read Welcome to Octavia Falls. Below that were various smaller signs advertising attractions like corn mazes, hayrides, and ghost tours.
Count me in on the ghost tours.
I took a deep breath as I slowed the car to match the speed limit. Tall maples and oaks lined the streets. My jaw dropped as we pass
ed by beautiful homes. Each one was bigger than the last, and they all had a unique gothic charm to them. My favorite house had dark red siding with black trim and a tall turret. I turned the music off so I could take it all in.
I passed over a narrow bridge, and the beautiful houses gave way to four-story buildings. The lower levels were all small businesses, selling things like maple syrup and honey, as well as a cute coffee shop and a candy store.
The further we drove, the more crowded the streets became. It wasn’t until the buildings parted and I spotted an expansive parking lot that I saw why. The lot was filled with canopies and people milling from one booth to the next like a farmer’s market. I spotted vendors selling herbs, candles, and crystals—along with a booth advertising palm readings. The middle of the lot had been set up with a stage, where a woman sang a haunting melody and a group danced around her in a slow, beautiful display.
I barely caught a glimpse of it all before it was out of sight. We drove past more businesses, and I tried to get a feel for what was here in case I wanted to go shopping later, but it all passed by quickly. I noticed a few clothing stores, whose display outfits totally looked my style—dark top, skinny jeans, and my signature leather jacket. We passed by an apothecary and a metaphysical store before we came upon the industrial portion of Octavia Falls.
This part of town had every kind of drink manufacturer you could imagine—breweries, wineries, distilleries, and a cider mill. Grammy had told me about the orchards around here, and I was eager to check them out sometime.
I understood now why Grammy called this a small town. Despite the population in the tens of thousands, it had that quaint small-town charm to it.
I’d slowed to a crawl to take in the beauty of Octavia Falls, and I nearly missed Grammy take a turn ahead of me. Snapping back to attention, I picked up speed and followed behind her.
I expected the architecture to change as we moved into a new neighborhood, but it didn’t. Every house looked like it should be hosting a Halloween party or something. I absolutely loved it.
Grammy slowed at the end of a street near a cluster of trees and a sign that read Octavia Falls Park. She pulled into the driveaway of the last house.
My eyes went wide. For eighteen years, we’d lived an hour and a half from my grandmother, and I’d never visited her. If someone had told me this was where she lived, I would’ve begged to visit sooner. Her house was huge, with pale yellow siding and white trim. A large porch wrapped around the front of the house, and a rounded turret reached three stories high. It already felt like it was calling me home.
I parked behind Grammy and opened my car door. My muscles ached from sitting so long, and my joints protested as I forced myself to step out of the car.
“Grammy!” I scolded as she made her way over to me. I still couldn’t take my eyes off the house. “You didn’t tell me you lived in a castle.”
She chuckled. “Don’t be silly, Nadine. It’s just a house.”
“A mansion,” I corrected her. “When do I get the grand tour?”
“Now, if you’d like,” she offered. “We can move your stuff in later.”
I swung my purse over my shoulder and grabbed the box on the front seat. It was filled with odds and ends and pretty light.
“Here, let me take that,” Grammy said quickly, stealing it from my hands.
I wanted to take it back and tell her I had it handled, but she turned quickly before I could. I knew what Grammy was doing. She was coddling me, because she knew how easily I got fatigued.
I didn’t like being coddled. I could manage on my own.
I followed behind Grammy. My gaze traveled over the elaborate woodwork on the porch railing and the beautiful carvings in the front door. I seriously couldn’t believe Grammy lived here. I’d kind of always wondered if Grammy was keeping a secret, since she’d come visit us on birthdays and holidays but we never came here. Plus, what was with a woman of her age having a cauldron tattooed on the inside of her wrist? Mom had the same one on her ankle. It kind of made me wonder if Grammy was part of a cult and that’s why Mom never wanted to come back or something.
My imagination was getting away on me.
Grammy led me inside to a wide hallway. A sleek black cat ran down the stairs, then rubbed itself up against Grammy’s leg, purring.
“This is Cornelius,” Grammy introduced. “He’s very friendly.”
“Well hello, Cornelius,” I said, bending to scratch him behind the ears. “You’re just the prettiest kitty, aren’t you?”
Cornelius tilted his head into my hand, showing his affection. I petted him a while longer, then stood to take in the rest of the house. To the right was a large living room with a beautiful brick fireplace and a welcoming, homey feel. On my left was a dining room with a display cabinet that stretched across the far wall. Inside sat endless vials of colored liquid. I had no idea what they were, but they shimmered beautifully in the light.
Grammy led me into a large kitchen. Back home, Mom was always in the kitchen, brewing up some sort of concoction that usually turned out better than the last. I knew she got the skills from Grammy, because my grandma couldn’t come over for a holiday without a feast packed in her car—and it was always the best food. Her brisket was to die for.
Her kitchen just proved what kind of a cook she was. It was clean, but obviously used. Pans hung from a rack above the kitchen island, along with herbs that’d been tied upside down to dry. Her stove looked like it belonged in a restaurant, since it had six burners instead of the usual four. Plus, she had two of those built-in ovens on the wall, one on top of the other, and the fridge was big enough for a family of fifteen.
“Holy crap, Grammy,” I said, trying to take it all in. “How many people do you feed?”
She waved her hand, like it was nothing. “Oh, I run a cooking business out of the home.”
What the heck? Why didn’t I know that? I was starting to sense there was a lot I didn’t know about her.
“If you think this is impressive, you should see my garden.” Grammy gestured to the back window, and I took a step closer to get a good look. Her yard stretched far back to a line of trees and over to the edge of the park. Almost half of the lawn was covered in a well-cared for garden. I recognized some of the plants, like lavender and sage, but others were more obscure. One of the bushes had big yellow flowers that looked like they were growing tentacles, and another had purple fruits that reminded me of radishes.
“You take care of all that yourself?” I asked.
She shrugged. “It keeps me busy. Do you want to see your room?”
“Yeah, of course.”
Grammy pointed me down another hall and into the guest room. The walls were pale yellow like the outside of the house, and she’d made the bed with a light blue comforter. It was so not my style, but I was just glad to be here with her.
I stepped into the room, and my eyes caught a photograph of my mom on the nightstand. My heart sank. It looked like an old school photo, and reminded me a little of myself. Mom and I shared the same chocolate eyes, dark brown hair, and full lips. My guts twisted just thinking about her.
And how she was gone, along with my dad.
“I know you won’t be here much, with college starting up soon,” Grammy said, pulling me from my thoughts. She set my box on the bed. “But I want you to feel at home. Feel free to move things around.”
I turned to her, picking at my nails. “Thanks, Grammy. About college, though. It’s already the end of August. Isn’t it a little late to enroll?”
I really didn’t want to take the semester off. I was afraid if I did I’d fall into a deep, dark hole I couldn’t pull myself out of. I needed something to distract me from my parents’ death.
Grammy placed a gentle hand on mine. “It’s all taken care of, Nadine.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat, relaxing a bit.
The doorbell rang, stealing Grammy’s attention. “Why don’t you get settled in a little, then we’
ll talk about it? We have a lot to discuss.”
I nodded, and the doorbell rang again.
“I have to get that,” Grammy said. “Let me know if you need anything.”
“I will,” I said, then Grammy hurried off to answer the door.
I set my purse down, then sank onto the bed. I didn’t lie down, because I knew that if I did I’d fall asleep for hours, and it was too late in the day for a nap. I started picking through my box instead. The first thing I pulled out was my yoga mat, which was rolled up on top. I hadn’t used it in weeks, which was probably why my joints were so achy lately. That and the stress.
I closed my eyes and clutched the silver star necklace around my neck. My parents had given it to me when I was fifteen, on the day of my lupus diagnosis. When I started getting down on myself, I used it as a reminder of how far I’d come from that day. I was a completely different person from the “problem child” I used to be.
There was a saying we had in the lupus community. “I have lupus, but lupus doesn’t have me.” My mantra was more along the lines of, “Lupus can kiss my ass.”
I repeated the phrase in my head until I started to relax. I told myself I’d get the yoga mat out before bed. Doing yoga before bed helped with the stiffness in the morning.
That was one of the drawbacks of having an autoimmune disease. My own freaking body couldn’t help but attack its own healthy tissues. It was like my body couldn’t help but destroy itself in every way it could for no good reason. Lupus liked to torture every patient differently, and my own brand of shit meant that I got joint pain every time I got a little stressed or spent too much time in the sun.
Check mark on the stress lately.
I sighed and pulled my journal from the box, then stood to place it on the dresser. As I crossed the room, movement outside caught my eye.
I stepped closer to the window and pushed aside the thin curtains. I became alert when I spotted a guy in a dark grey zip-up hoodie bent over Grammy’s garden. His hood was up, concealing his features, but I could tell he was around my age, with long legs and broad shoulders. Every muscle in my body froze as I watched him, sensing he was nothing but trouble. What the hell was he doing out there?